


The Apple Harvest

by Gilli_ann



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is apple harvest time in Ealdor. Hunith has royal help in the orchard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Apple Harvest

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This version of the legendary characters belongs to Shine and the BBC. I intend no copyright infringement, and make no money from this.
> 
> This story is authorised for AO3 only. It is not to be copied or used elsewhere without my explicit written permission.

**The Apple Harvest**

 

The apples were red and golden in the bright and slanting autumn sunlight. Pendragon colours on fruit fit for a king – and intended for a king.

Hunith was sitting on the bench outside the sturdy kitchen wall of her cottage. She let the apple she was peeling rest for a moment, and shielded her eyes as she looked across her little orchard. 

Autumn would soon be drawing towards winter, but the weather had been sunny and mild for the season. The apples had grown unusually large, sweet and juicy by the time she sent word to Camelot that the trees were ready to be harvested. 

She had started her orchard in the year that King Arthur took the throne. She had planted each little sapling in the confidence that not only Camelot, but all the seven kingdoms, would experience peace and growing prosperity under the young king's rule. 

She knew Arthur would not fail them.

The trees had grown big now. Ealdor had known many good years. 

The low stone wall surrounding the orchard made it look snug and protected, though in truth no wall was necessary. No-one, not even the most rascally little lads, would dare sneak in to take an apple from any of Hunith's trees. Not when they knew who would be coming to harvest them.

For every spring come apple blossom time, and every fall come harvest, Ealdor would have royal visitors. 

King Arthur travelled in proper style these days. Long gone was the time when he could ride out with Merlin on adventures. Now he brought knights and squires and banner-men, scribes and even a minstrel. 

The minstrel might be Merlin's idea. He'd once or twice mentioned how Arthur loved poetry, although she'd noticed that the king wasn't too pleased to have that talked about.

Ealdor loved the pomp and grandeur and hectic days that each royal visit would bring. It was like a festival every time. Joy and laughter and thanksgiving, either for the return of spring or for a bountiful harvest. Gallant knights would be helping the villagers with barn raising or with carrying water from the wells, and they'd demonstrate the skills of their magnificent steeds to children struck dumb with admiration. The minstrel would perform courtly ballads in the village square next to the big festival bonfire. And there was good and plentiful food for everyone. 

Hunith drew a deep, contented breath and angled her face to catch the last bright rays of the sinking sun. She wasn't a young woman any more. She grew tired more easily now, and her joint aches were increasingly bothersome. A good life it'd been, but not an easy one. She hadn't put up much of a fight when Merlin hired a young woman in the village to stay with his mother permanently and help her with the heavier chores. Reba was a good girl, and Hunith enjoyed the company.

Secretly she had also appreciated it when her cottage was completely re-built on King Arthur's orders. The new one was very solid, with several fireplaces to keep it warm in winter, and with a proper guest bedroom in addition to her own. A guest room currently occupied by the High King of Albion and his consort. Hunith smiled. Once the very idea of such a thing would have sounded preposterous.

King Arthur kept bringing joy and prosperity to Ealdor. But more importantly, he also kept bringing the court sorcerer back home to Hunith and his roots.

It had been a difficult year, the one after Arthur finally learned the truth about her son's abilities. Merlin had been miserable, and had come home to stay in Ealdor for a time. But they had worked it out between the two of them, as she had know in her heart that they would, for the one was not complete without the other. Their final reconciliation had happened in this very orchard in spring, under fresh green leaves and clouds of white and pink blossoms.

Now Merlin was always at their king's side, in the throne room - and in the private chambers. 

The love they shared was plain to see, but Hunith couldn't truly say that she fully understood all aspects of their relationship. Nor would she pretend that they were just boys in her eyes, returned home to help an elderly woman with the harvest. Merlin and Arthur were so much more; – they were legends in the making. 

She was immensely proud of them, and had nothing but respect and gratitude for all that they had achieved together. 

Hunith pulled her shawl around her shoulders. The evening chill was already noticeable. She looked down at her big bowl of peeled and cut apples. There were more than enough. 

She rose from the bench and walked in among the trees through the long autumn grasses, dappled with the first fallen leaves. Her trees saved all their splendour for the fruit now. The leaves on the boughs were a dull green, crinkled and turning brown at the edges, but under the trees there were several crates of temptingly red and freshly picked apples.

She could hear them. Their voices carried in the clear autumn air. 

“I can reach it! Give me a minute! It's not....that....far!” 

“I'll get it. There!”

“What? That's cheating!”

“It's called being practical, Arthur. We'll be out here all night if we don't hurry up.”

“I could have managed. I always did, without an ounce of your magic to pick my apples for me.”

“You are joking, right? You know you wouldn't have lasted a day if not for...”

“Oh, shut up, MERlin! I could have managed on my own, that's my point.”

“Where you going to issue a royal order to have it drop into your hand from above?"

“I was – oufff! - I was planning to climb higher!”

“You carry some bulk, your illustrious majesty, and that ladder's none too steady. Where would Albion be if her king fell to ground and was crushed like a plump and over-ripe apple?”

“Are you calling me _plump and over-ripe_? The insolence! The gall! I'm not fat and you know it! I'm still at the height of my physical prowess. I'm fighting fit!”

“Yes, your royal fitness. I humbly beg your pardon. None of my mum's apple pies have affected your girth at all.”

Hunith could hear Arthur spluttering with indignation. “You'll pay for your insinuations, you.... you... court sorcerer. I'll make you court jester instead.”

“Did I not more than once hear you assure your subjects that you would never punish anyone for speaking the truth?” 

Arthur grumbled. “Well, there is truth, and there are... insults. Be warned. There will be no plump, ripe _anything_ for you tonight, the way you're going.” 

Merlin laughed, a cheeky and carefree laughter that reminded Hunith of the boy he once was, all those years ago. “Oh, we'll see who's hungrier, when the time comes.” 

“Is that a challenge? We're on!”

Hunith peeked through the leaves at them. Arthur was descending the harvesting ladder. “There. I think that's the rest of them," he said. "Oh no, there's one more over there -”

“Let me get it, please," Merlin said. "You don't honestly _want_ to be out here all night, do you? 

“Well, now that I have no better plans for tonight, I'm in no particular hurry, so...”

Merlin huffed. 

Hunith smiled fondly. She knew she really should make herself known, but she enjoyed their silly banter and bickering too much, even at its most intimate.

There was a soft snick as the remaining golden apple broke from the topmost branch. Hunith could see it landing gently in Merlin's hand. A look passed between the two men. Merlin slowly lifted the apple to his mouth and bit into it with a crunch. They shared a very private smile. But no further words were spoken.

She heartily understood their need to step down from the dais and away from the throne room, out from under the heavy trappings of crown and rule. Even the mightiest need time now and then away from both duty and glory. In Ealdor there was space for them to be ordinary men for a little while, experiencing the simple joy of harvesting a fine apple orchard. Time to be themselves. That was what she could give them. Maybe that was the best gift they could ever have. 

All too soon they would be leaving for Camelot, to return to their formal roles and titles, to restraints and requirements, difficult decisions and strict schedules.

Hunith suddenly shivered. “Arthur? Merlin?" she called. "I'm going in now to make you an apple tart. Hurry up and finish here! It will be dark soon, and it's getting cold. Come sit by the fire!”

“Yes, mum,” two voices responded politely as one. 

Her heart was brimming with quiet joy as she retraced her steps back to the cottage. The orchard would always mean happiness to Hunith as long as those two would be returning to help with the harvest.

**The End**


End file.
